


Jesus Christ

by Punish_Me_Frank_Castle



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: F/M, trigger warning: self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:31:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punish_Me_Frank_Castle/pseuds/Punish_Me_Frank_Castle
Summary: Cause we are broken, what must we do to restore our innocence. Give us life again, cause we just wanna be whole.





	Jesus Christ

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is kinda dark. I was listening to a song called Jesus Christ by a band called Brand New and was inspired and came up with this fic. This is probably one of my favorite things I’ve written in a long time. 
> 
> Please let me know what you all think of this, I’d love some feedback in the comments! 
> 
> Trigger Warning: Self Harm (cutting is mentioned).

## “Jesus Christ that’s a pretty face, the kind you’d find on someone I could save.”

Darcy watched Barnes a lot. Whenever he was in the labs with Steve, whenever he would linger on the outskirts of the common room, his back to the wall. Darcy had always had a soft spot for the wounded. If you asked her therapist he’d say that it was because Darcy’s childhood was lacking in parental care, having a Mom who drank herself to death and a Dad that took off as soon as he saw things going south. According to Mr. Phd Darcy’s ‘inner child’ (she fucking hated that phrase) longed for someone to take care of her, therefore adult Darcy longed to give the care that she had never gotten. Darcy hated psychology with a passion.

She always wanted to approach Barnes but if she was in his shoes, she’d want to be left alone for eternity, hell she’d wanna set the world on fire and watch it burn, then hurl herself into the flames. So she figured him even making an effort to be around other people was enough for a lifetime. So she let him be, but she still watched.

* * *

## “If they don’t put me away it’ll be a miracle.”

How James didn’t end up in The Raft he would never fucking know. Hell, he should’ve ended up dead, many times over. But here he was, with Steve, the punk never did know when to quit. Before he knew it he was crashing with Steve, in the Avengers compound of all places. All things considered he thought he was progressing well. Of course there were the nightmares, and the panic attacks, and the overwhelming rage to run, to fight, but he wasn’t the asset and that meant everything.  
  
Steve was trying to help him, talking to him like no time had passed, like they had just stepped out of the 1940s. Sometimes it helped him, to remember something other than the bad things, and then some days it infuriated him, that Steve could act like nothing had happened, that he wasn’t a monster masquerading as a man.

* * *

## “Do you believe you’re missing out? That everything good is happening somewhere else?”

Darcy never fit in, she was a squeezer. She would shape and mold herself into what she needed to be to get by. In high school she was a rule breaker, nobody fucked with the kid that had a wrap sheet. In college she was simple, basic, plain jane (no pun intended). She didn’t draw attention, didn’t do well enough in school to get recognition but didn’t do bad enough to get negative attention either. And until she met Jane, she never did have anyone that bothered to try to get to know the real Darcy.

Jane was the only real friend she had. Thor was nice, welcoming, but Darcy didn’t know him well enough to count him as a friend. Jane though, she was ride or die. Ever since New Mexico Jane had always had Darcy’s back, through think and thin, and for that Darcy would follow her to the ends of the earth. Which is why Darcy found herself in a lab, day after day, surrounded by people that were way smarter than her, protecting the world, sometimes saving it, then there was Darcy taking up space.

Jane always told her that she was vital to the Jane Train, Darcy was the reason everything ran smoothly, the reason why Jane didn’t work herself into oblivion. But Darcy knew Jane said all of those things to make her feel better, and she appreciated the thought, she really did.

* * *

## “And I, will die, all alone. And when I, arrive, I won’t know anyone.”

James woke up to the screams again, at first he thought there were the screams of his demons, but when he fully came to he realized they were his screams. He was glad Steve was gone on a mission, he hated seeing the sadness in his eyes whenever Steve had to wake him from a nightmare, to hold him down, fight him off so he wouldn’t hurt Steve, hurt others. His head was pounding, it always did after the night terrors. Steve would remind him that there was medication he could take to help him sleep better, to help nightmares not be so bad, but James wouldn’t take them. His mind flashed back to that day in Siberia, when Stark asked if he even remembered killing his parents, remembered “them”. And James wasn’t lying when he said he did.

He remembered every single victim, every kill. How it felt to feel their bodies cooling under his fingertips, to watch their eyes grow dull and lifeless, how they cried, begged. All those people, murdered, by his own hands, and yet here he was, alive. It wasn’t right. So he endured the nightmares, they were his punishment, his atonement.

* * *

## “Well Jesus Christ, I’m not scared to die, I’m a little bit scared of what comes after. Do I get the gold chariot? Do I float through the ceiling?”

Darcy was fourteen when she started cutting. It helped her feel in control, the pain reminding her that she was alive, reminding her that she didn’t really want to die, even though it felt like she did sometimes. She had gotten better, especially over the last couple of years. But every once in a while she would add a new scar to her body. She had run out of room on her arms forever ago, since then she had moved on to her thighs. If she had been smarter she would’ve started there, much easier to hide.

Usually Darcy had it all put together. Sterilize, cut, cleanup. But she had been on edge today, out of control, and she hadn’t made sure she had something to bandage her leg with. Which is why she found herself in the communal kitchen at two in the morning. She knew a first aid kit was kept under the sink, as much as they got injured, Darcy thought there should be one in every nook and cranny of the compound. She found the kit, gingerly climbed onto the counter, and pulled down the top of her sweat pants, pressing gauze to the fresh cut on her thigh.

* * *

## “Do I, divide, and pull apart? ’Cause my bright, is too slight to hold back all my dark.”

James watched the girl from the shadows. He hadn’t been able to sleep so he had just been wandering the halls when he heard movement in the kitchen. Once he concluded that there was no threat he had planned to turn back the way he came, but then he recognized the girl. It was the one from the labs, the one that liked to stare at him. But her stares were different than all the others he was used to. Her eyes weren’t filled with fear or hate like all the others, they were filled with sorrow.

He stared at her, watching her movements, and then he caught a glimpse of her arm in the moonlight. It was covered in scars, they criss crossed up her forearm in an intricate pattern. Then he smelled it, the blood. He closed his eyes briefly, the smell bringing back memories to the forefront of his mind. Once he had his demons under control he opened his eyes again. There was a neat line of blood on the top of her left thigh, which she was currently wrapping with elastic wrap.

* * *

## “I know you’re coming in the night like a thief. But I’ve had some time alone to hone my lying technique”

“You’re doing it wrong. It’s too tight, it’ll cut of the circulation.” a raspy voice said to her, so quite that Darcy almost thought it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

She looked around, trying to find out where exactly the voice had come from but she couldn’t see anyone. “Oh, okay. Thanks.”

Darcy knew that response was probably stupid, but she was tired, the mania from the day had begun to dissipate, leaving her empty and drained. She watched as Barnes took a step out of the shadows, she would’ve been surprised that it was him if she had enough energy left to care.

“You’re bleeding.” he said matter of factly.

She snorted at that, “Yeah, I am.”

“Why?” he asked. His voice sounded odd, his words were short, like he hadn’t talked in so long he had forgotten how.

“Tripped, must have scraped a nail on the way down or something.” Darcy replied. She was used to lying about cuts. She stopped trying to come up with good lies eons ago once she figured out that no one actually gave a shit, that they just asked because it was expected of them to act like they cared.

“Liar.” the man responded.

She just grimaced at him and hopped off the counter, taking the first aid kit with her.

If James hadn’t had enhanced hearing he wouldn’t have heard her soft “yep.” as she left the room.

* * *

## “I know you think that I’m someone you can trust. But I’m scared I’ll get scared and I swear I’ll try to nail you back up.”

Two weeks had passed before Barnes saw the girl again. He had tried to see her sooner, but it seemed that she and Dr. Foster had left for a conference in Berlin. He was in the TV room with Steve when she walked in, earbuds in. She was smiling, James thought that it looked nice on her.

“Steve, what do you know about Foster’s intern?” he asked as Darcy left the room, a stash of Poptarts in hand.

“Not much. Just know her name is Darcy and that she’s been working with Foster for years now. I’ve read her file but that kinda stuff is classified, and not anything anyone should have to read anyways.”

Barnes frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I really shouldn’t talk about it Bucky, just forget I brought it up.”

“Aww come on punk, who am I gonna tell? The only person I talk to here is you.”

Steve’s face turned glum at that comment. “You know Buck, it doesn’t have to be that way, not everyone here is afraid of you, you could socialize a bit more. I’m not pushing you though.” Steve rushed to say, hoping he hadn’t put his foot in his mouth, “I just—“ he sighed, “I just feel helpless in this whole situation.”

James clapped Steve on the shoulder. “I know pal. I’m interested in this Darcy dame though, I was thinking maybe I’d get to know her but…” He trailed off, hoping to bait Steve into telling him what he wanted to know.

“Fine, but don’t think you’re pulling one over on me, I know what you’re doing.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Darcy’s past is, umm, colorful to say the least. Her Dad left her and her Mom when Darcy was four. And by that time her Mother had already developed a serious drinking problem. Then at the age of thirteen her mom died, choked on her own vomit. So then Darcy ended up in the system, she jumped from home to home, had some trouble with the law, minor stuff; vandalism, truancy, nothing major. Once she graduated High School, she calmed down a lot, went to college, met Foster, now she’s here.”

Another week went by before James worked up the courage to approach her. He had wrestled with the idea. Why should James think he could bring some sort of comfort to this girl when he couldn’t even help himself?  But there was something about her that stuck with him, he had to at least try.

She was working in the labs late that night, filing paperwork. James made sure she was alone, for privacy. He stood in the doorway a while, just watching her work. She was humming softly, nodding her head to the music flowing through the sound system overhead.

“Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me all day?” she asked, not looking up from what she was doing.

“You’re one to talk, you stare at me all the time.” That got a small smile out of her

“Touche.”

“This music is awful.” James said, scowling at the ceiling where the offending noise was coming from.

She looked up then, a look of bewilderment on her face. “Are you serious? This is The Beatles, a global sensation. Everyone likes The Beatles, everyone. They must’ve fucked with you’re brain so bad, since you don’t even like The Beatles.”

She covered her mouth with her hand, as if by laying a hand over her mouth she could’ve taken back the words that had just escaped. She removed her hand, about to start spouting out an apology when James started to laugh.

“Well don’t sugar coat it doll.”

Darcy opened her mouth again and he raised his hand to stop her. 

“Don’t apologize. You’re the first person to not walk on eggshells around me, it’s nice.”

“Umm, okay.” Darcy nodded warily.

James walked over and took the seat beside her, picking up a stack of files to alphabetize. They worked in silence all night long. It was the best night he’d had in a very long time.

* * *

## “So do you think that we could work out a sign? So I’ll know it’s you and that it’s over so I won’t even try.”

They spent a lot of time together after that. Darcy liked to think of it as companionable silence. They would never talk, but it was comforting, to spend time with someone and not have to deal with the exhaustion of pretending everything was alright, that you had all your shit together. She knew Barnes could tell when she had particularly bad days. On those days he’d just do little things to show he was there. Silently hand her a piping hot cup of tea even though she hadn’t asked, or sneaking down to the labs to help with some of her paperwork. One time, on a particularly bad day, he grabbed her hand, squeezing lightly, just for a moment. And after the moment was over, Darcy missed the warmth his hand offered.

Darcy stopped cutting as often. She found herself seeking out Barnes rather than the razor stashed under her bed. They’d sit in silence, just being. And when she did have those moments of weakness, when she did cut, he was there too. Bandaging her up with no judgement, just gentle hands.

* * *

## “I know you’re coming for the people like me. We all got wood and nails We turn out hate in factories. We sleep inside of this machine.”

“You can’t fix me, ya know. I’m broken. Nothing’s gonna change that.” Darcy spoke one night as they sat together on the couch pretending to watch the muted TV in front of them.

He turned and looked at her, a sad smile on his face. “I’m not here to fix you. I just thought that maybe we could be broken, together.”

Darcy ignored the feeling that bloomed in her chest. “Yeah, okay. Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me some comments and kudos, and let me know what you think! Thanks! :)


End file.
